


The Adventures of Mary Elizabeth (From Brooklyn to Stanton)

by Captain_BittieBubble



Series: The Adventures of Mary Elizabeth [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: But Morris is? Kind of okay? Sorta?, F/F, F/M, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I don't know, Let the gays be gay, M/M, Mary Protection Squad, Mary will love you so much you'll get sick of her, Morris Delancey and Oscar Delancey Being Assholes, Mostly fluff? I think?, Multi, Please support my addiction to my sweet girl, Protective Spot Conlon, Protectiveness, She'll bring you flowers, She'll fight you to- even when she knows she won't win, Sometimes angst, and so do the others, debatable - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_BittieBubble/pseuds/Captain_BittieBubble
Summary: Just a series of events in which Mary unknowingly becomes a big part in everyone's lives, but NOT a big part of the strike. Sorta.
Relationships: Crutchie/David Jacobs, Crutchie/David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Crutchie/Jack Kelly, I'll get them all tagged one day, Original Character/Original Character, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon & Original Female Character(s), Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, There's a lot here too
Series: The Adventures of Mary Elizabeth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022023
Kudos: 3





	1. Just Your Average Brooklyn Lady (Thank You Very Much)

**Author's Note:**

> The one in which Mary interrupts an important conversation, sasses a few people, and may have made a few friends in the middle of it all.

Bronze ringlets bounced with a mind of their own as her tiny body made its way onto the harbor, a bright smile on her tanned face. Little heels clacked against the wood, equally small hands pushing the baby stroller that held her giggling baby brother in it. She smiled at him, soft and sweet and happy. He was the light of her life, only a month old and already stealing her heart. His name was Victor, Victor Morales-Magdalene. Their mother had been kind enough to name him normally, and it suited him. He was a beautiful baby, his nose small as a button and cheeks round as a cherub’s. His eyes were large, and brown like their mother’s, and he was perfect. Mary couldn’t have been happier to call him her brother if she tried.

Today, she’d dressed him to match her. A simple white one-piece to match her blue dress and white heels. She brushed a tied up curl behind her ear as she hummed, a bounce in her step as she pushed the stroller down the dock, careful to stay a decent distance from the water. She couldn’t let her flowers, which rested in a basket on her arm, get soiled before she was able to hand them out after all. This was a daily occurrence for the eldest Morales-Magdalene child, and one she had taken upon herself to do each morning without fail. Or, at least, whenever her rheumatoid arthritis didn’t dictate her actions of the day as it so frequently enjoyed doing. She was often told to be grateful, that at least she hadn’t caught polio, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be grateful for the constant pain within her joints. Especially when said pain stopped her from checking in with the newsies of her dear Brooklyn city. They were something else, those boys and girls, but Mary believed it to be a good something. They were nice enough, and helped when they could, and that was more than she could ask for. Especially when she had more material wise than they had.

“’ello, Miss Mary! How’s the day treatin’ ya?” A voice caught her out of her musings, and Mary looked around for a few simple moments before she caught the wavings of a young boy on the dock, newspapers in a stack next to him. Ah, so she’d missed the circulation bell. Well, that was alright. She still had plenty of time for the day.

“Good morn, Jet! I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“Aw, I’se doin’ jus’ fine, Miss Mary. And Vic?”

“He’s been coughin’ just a bit, but he’s alright. Are the papers selling well this morning?”

“Not really, but I’se workin’ on it! You knows what they’se says, Miss Mary, headlines ain’t sellin’ papes-”

“’Newsies sell the papes’. Right you are, Jet, right you are. I’ll take one from you, how about that? Here you go!” She found herself handing him a quarter, a newspaper given in exchange, and the boy grinned at her so wide she swore his face would have torn. Ruffling his hair, she began to move past him, both hands on the stroller and a newspaper now in its cubby. She began to hum again, a simple tune her mother had once taught her about a Spanish flower, soft and quiet yet carrying through the air.

“Thanks, Miss Mary!” She smiled to herself and carried on her path.

The next time she was stopped, she was near the middle of the docks, near a large stack of crates, and half her basket of flowers gone with the boys and girls she’d seen and spoke with along the way. She’d seen the valiant leader himself, hanging around the crates of the dock. He was about an inch taller than her, and was accompanied by two boys who were leveled at six foot at the least. She smiled at the three, a gently worried look coming onto her face. “Spot? Are these boys giving you trouble?” Her voice carried through like summer rain, gentle and melodic in a way that was unique all to her own. She watched the three turn to her, and held her ground despite feeling the need to flinch away. She walked toward them carefully, slowly, and occasionally glanced down at her sleeping brother before she met Spot’s eyes full on. She watched the smirk on his face spread into the slightest smile.

“Nah, Miss Mary, they’se ain’t botherin’ me. What’s ya doin’ out here so early?”

“Delivering the flowers, as usual. I even brought one for you! Watch Victor for me while I look, yes?” And she turned away from the three to look through her basket of flowers, a smile on her face that could put the sun to shame. She could hear one of the boys snickering, and lifted her eyes to see a boy with a cowboy hat on raising his brows at Spot. She raised one of her own and watched as the tallest of the three elbowed him, gesturing to her like he was.

“I’m sorry. Did you also want a flower? If not, then I suggest you quit poking fun at one of my boys. Is that understood?” She stood straight from where she was slightly bent and held out a flower to the boy who was barely an inch taller than her. “Here you are, Spotty! A daffodil, just as every morning. And a daisy for you, Buttons. Are you doing alright?”

“I’se fine, Miss Mary. How’a ya and Vic?”

“We’re doing just fine, sweetheart. Thank you for asking. Now,” she turned to face the two tallest of the five of them, her hands on her hips, “who might you two be? If you’re friends of Spot’s, then I suppose you must be friends of mine as well.” She brushed off the front of her dress and stepped around the stroller to stand fully in front of the two. Even in her little heels she barely came up to the bottom of the tallest one’s collarbone. She raised a brow up at the two of them, clearly waiting for an introduction that they seemed hesitant to give. She could hear Spot’s frustrated sigh behind her and sighed herself, outstretching a hand to the tallest.

“Mary Elizabeth, if you please. And your name?”

“I- Uh- David. David Jacobs. Nice to meet you, Miss Mary.” She smiled as she shook his hand, giving a nod before she turned to the second tallest.

“And I don’t suppose you’re nameless, are you? That would be rather unfortunate.”

“They’se call me Jack. Jack Kelly. What’s a pretty thing like you’se doin’ ‘round here?”

“Taking care of my boys. Isn’t that obvious?” She held her hand out towards the second tallest, Jack, with a smile and he spit in his hand before doing the same.

“Jack! She’s a _lady_!”

She sighed before she mumbled something about boys and pulled off her glove to spit in her hand, shaking his with a small purse of her lips. “I hope you don’t plan on doing that every time you see me, Kelly. It’s a rather bad habit.” She took a tissue from the compartment of the stroller, wiped off her hand, and then put her glove back on. Her smile remained bright as the sun as she turned back to Spot. “Are you going to spit on my hand too, or do I get a normal greeting from our dear leader?”

She watched him smirk and roll his eyes, heard the way Jack Kelly and David Jacobs snorted and the way Buttons laughed a little, but paid them no mind. Neither did Spot as he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, as friendly as a brother would to an elder sister. “Mornin’, Ms. Mary.” She smiled at him and laughed a little, shaking her head.

“Every morning, I swear it’s always something different with you! A troublemaker you are, Spot Conlon, but I find myself fond. So don’t you ever change yourself, you hear me?”

“I’se hear ya, I’se hear ya. You stayin’ here a moment, Ms. Mary? I’se seen ya limpin’ again.” Though his words formed a question, Mary knew it for what it was. She may not have been a newsie herself, but she belonged to Brooklyn through and through. So she sighed and shook her head, a gentle smile on her face as she lightly pushed his cap over his eyes. “Yes, Spots. I’m staying for a moment. But just a moment, you hear me? I have work to do!” And so she helped up onto the crates until she was seated on the throne that was made of them, her baby brother cradled in her arms as she watched the boys right below her. She saw the tallest one, David, looking up at her and she waved with a soft smile on her face. She received a small, seemingly shy wave in response and found herself giggling a little. Boys. They were all the same sometimes. By that, she meant that they were all amusing in their own ways.

“What’s this? Some kinda walkin’ mouth?” She must have gotten distracted, because those words the next thing she heard and she had no absolute clue to what was happening. “If you don’t start showing your manners, Spot Conlon, the only mouth that is going to _walk_ is yours.” She chided from her seat on top of the crates, and Spot pulled a face in response. She raised a brow at him in response, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and the mouth’s gotta brain. And if you’se got even half’a one, you’d listen ta what he’s gotta say.” Now with an attentive eye, Mary watched as Spot sat on the crates with his second at his side, and she watched him listen. She watched his brain turn and work and scheme. She watched the slow smirk that came onto his face, and she smiled to herself. Leave it to that boy to scheme up a plot for something as simple as a favor. From what she was seeing of Kelly’s disappointed face and David’s nervous look, it must have been an important one that Spot was turning down. She watched as they turned to leave, and she didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there but she knew she was getting stiff. She managed to hand her brother to the second in command, and then looked down the height with a bite of her lip.

“Excuse me! David, Kelly?” She watched as they turned around, and her face flushed pink in embarrassment. “I… I’m a little too stiff to climb down on my own, and Spots ain’t much taller than me. Could… Well, could one of you help me down? Please?” She watched the two look at each other, and watched as David went to step forward to help her but was held back by Kelly himself. “And why should we help you, Mary?” “Jack!” “Not now, Davey. You’se was real rude ta us back there, so why’se should we?” Mary, despite the annoyance she felt at the fact that she was still stuck on the crates, smiled and waved off the second in command when she tried to help her down. She had a point to prove. Her smile was gentle, but there was a spark to her eyes that spelled mischief and a quirk of an eyebrow that tested waters. “Why, because I asked you to, of course. I mean,” she sighed dramatically, the playful mischief spreading to her smile and, in consequence, to her entire face, “it’s not as if I could _help_ your cause in any way. Become a morale booster, provide nourishment.” She let out another dramatic sigh, this time draping her body to the side over the crate that made up the ‘arm’ of the ‘throne’.

Jack grinned, a laugh leaving him as he shook his head. “You’se somethin’ else, Mary Elizabeth. Alright. I’se’ll help ya down, _but_ -” he paused with a grin and a raise of his brow, “you’se gotta start bringin’ yaself ta ‘Hattan too. Deal?” Mary beamed down at the two of them, her legs swinging a little and her skirt brushing against her feet. She couldn’t help the giggles that left her core. “Why, I’d say you’ve got a deal there, Mistah Kelly! Now, could ya help a lady down? Anymore time up here and my joints will start aching something fierce.”


	2. Manhattan Gained an Angel (Thank You Very Much)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary makes good on her promise to come to Manhattan, and even gains herself a few admirers.

She was up earlier than she usually was, but that was alright. She wanted to do her rounds before that circulation bell went off, and it took her nearly an hour to get through Brooklyn alone so she could only imagine what Manhattan would be like. As she rolled out of bed, her hair a mess of wavy bronze curls that ended at the ended at the bottom of her spine, she began to ready herself for the day. The sun had yet to rose and already the ache in her joints had started along with the occasional seize of the muscles in several parts of her body. Today, it would be a difficult task to simply get dressed, but she would push through it as she always had. She had to, for her boys.

Today she wore a simpler dress, one accented with white and of a sweet pinkish-red color that came down to brush the tops of her feet, and a pair of white heels. She styled her hair as she did every day, in ringlets that stopped at the middle of rib cage and were tied back delicately, and applied her usual makeup lightly. Her wrist was aching, an occasional spasm made her stop her task, but once she was finished she prepared her baby brother for the day as well, doing her best not to wake him. Today, he wore blue, and she swore to herself that she would get around to getting him an outfit that matched each of her dresses. One day. When daddy didn’t have to work so hard and mommy was able to pay more attention to them. For now, however, she settled with the blue cloth and bundled the baby up in a blanket, holding him to her chest and over her heart in an attempt to keep him asleep. She was thankful to have had the forethought to pick the flowers and pastries the night before; she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to that morning.

It was ten minutes to the circulation bell when she crossed the Brooklyn bridge into Manhattan, Victor held delicately against her with one arm while the other held her basket of flowers and food. It was another five minutes before she spotted the tall figures of Jack Kelly and David Jacobs and felt a sense of relief run through her. She wasn’t late. “Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Mistah Jacobs and Mistah Kelly themselves.” Her voice rang out clearly through the air, just as soft and warm as it’d been the previous morning, and she watched as more than a few people turned to look at her. She knew that she was short, that without her heels she was only 5’0” even, but the Manhattan boys made her feel like a child with all their lank. She watched the smirk appear on Jack’s face and the smile that crossed David’s, and found herself smiling at them with amusement. “How are you this morning?”

“Why, if ain’t Miss Mary,” Jack taunted in response, a boyish grin taking over his face as he made his way through his friends, “and her little baby. What’s a gal like you’se doin’ over here?” David followed behind him, a friendlier smile on his face and Les by his side. The little boy looked to be in awe, and though Mary had seen the look on some of the other younger boy’s face’s at the Brooklyn lodge, she’d never understood why. “Isn’t it obvious, Kelly? I told you yesterday, and I will tell you again: I take care of my boys. And, well, _you_ are the one who made the deal.” David raised a hand in a wave, “Good morning, Ms. Mary. How are you?” Mary couldn’t help the giggle that left her as the tallest boy there broke up what might have ended in a fight. “I’m quite alright. Yourself? And who’s this?”

“Me name’s Les! Davey’s my older brother!” Mary smiled, “You don’t say. How’s would you like a flower, sweetheart?” She watched as the little boy pulled a face and told her that flowers were for girls, watched as David scolded him for being rude, and found herself laughing as she did. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was cut off by a barreling body almost knocking her over. “Mary! What’s you’se doin’ ovah on this side, huh? Spotty knows ya here? Why’s you’se wincin’, I ain’t even holdin’ that tight? You ovahworkin’ yaself again?” The onslaught of questions halted any thought she may have had, the arm with the basket on it carefully wrapping around the boy that’d latched onto her side as if she’d disappear. She raised a brow at him in response, and he gave a sheepish grin in response but continued on as if she hadn’t done anything. “You’se gonna answer, or am I’se tellin’ all’a Brooklyn that you’se workin’ when ya shouldn’t?”

She sighed, long and suffering, but the smile that came across her face was nothing short of affectionate. She reached up ruffled the hatted hair of one Racetrack Higgins, green eyes glinting with a familial love. “You wouldn’t tell that boy a thing even if you was a sinner in church, Higgins. Spots knows well and good where I am, and _I_ am here on invitation. I have to take care of my boys, don’t I? Aren’t you one of mine?” She scrunched her nose up in a smile as Race took a decent enough space back and stuffed his hands in his pockets, cigar hanging out of his mouth like a worm dangles on a hook. She hated the smell of those things terribly, and the taste of them even more. “Course I’s is, Mary-girl. I’se knew what I’se signed up fah.” “Ay, Racetrack, what’s she meanin’? You’se bein one’a hers?” Race turned to look at the boy, a hand coming up to grab the cigar from his mouth and flick away ash. “Ain’t it obvious, Kid? Mary-girl takes care’a Brooklyn, and I’se sellin’ ovah there, so I’se one’a her boys.” “Yeah, but whas’it mean? Whas’it gotta do with anythin’?” Race gave a shrug and didn’t bother explaining more as Mary took the steps to sit on the steps leading to the news desk. He watched her give another wince, short and subtle but sharp, and he knew he’d been right when he’d asked her why she was wincing earlier.

She bounced Victor as he began to wake up, cooing at him sweetly before she turned her attention to the other boys that had begun to crowd around. “Now, if any of you are wantin’ food before that bell rings, I would mind your manners and your welcomes and move quickly. Time waits for no one, newsies, especially not you.” Race stood off the one side of her while Les stood on the other, babbling out questions at her with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. She answered all of them as best as she could, she really did, but some of them were too funny for her to take serious.

“Are them Brooklyn boys big, miss?” Was one such question, and she found herself laughing hard enough that she had to tighten her grip on Victor to keep him from falling. Les looked up at her, confusion and irritation written all over his little face, and Mary took a breath in an attempt to calm herself. “I- I don’t mean to laugh at you, _conejito_ _(little bunny)_ , but take a good look at me! Do you believe I could honestly say one of the boys, Brooklyn or otherwise, _isn’t_ bigger than me?” The boy just looked further confused, but instead of asking the strange woman more questions, he wandered back to his brother and his friends and Mary picked up her basket once more. It only contained flowers now, and she felt her shoulders deflate a bit at the sight. Perhaps the little boy had been right, and the flowers were too feminine for the boys of Manhattan. “Oi, Mary! Ain’t ya gonna greet’cha leadah?” She raised her head and her brow, unsure of what that question meant until Jack was standing in front of her, holding out his hand to help her up.

She laughed softly and took the hand, managing to stand slowly. She adjusted Victor in her arms before she reached down and grabbed her basket, expression soft and tired. It was an effect of the illness, the doctor had assured her, and she should just take it easy. “As far as I know, Mistah Kelly, the leader’s supposed to greet me first.”

“That so?”

“That’s right.”

“And how’s do I’se go about doin’ that, Miss Mary?”

“If you ask Spots, he’ll tell you to do something annoyingly different every day, so I suppose you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.” She watched him hum, watched his brain work, and found herself feeling nervous for the first time that morning. She hadn’t unpredictability, that was why Spot had walked her over the bridge and around Manhattan late last night so she knew the layout, and Jack Kelly was known for being a bit… spontaneous. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like that in the slightest. And maybe part of her was worried about how he would go about initiating the morning greeting that would become a part of her routine. She had only met him once before, after all, and had agreed to his deal more so to form a connection between Brooklyn and Manhattan than anything else. What if he was rude, or crude, or worse? What if-

Her thoughts were cut off by the soft feeling of a shirt against her forehead and nose, and she blinked in surprise. “Jack?” It was the first time she’d said his proper name, and it was out of confusion. His hand was on the back of her neck, in her ringlets, but it was a touch gentle enough that her nerves stood on end. He was… He was hugging her? “Mornin’, Mary!” And then she understood. This would be the greeting unless Jack decided to take the Spot approach. Mary began to laugh, pulling back from the shocking display and smacking his arm lightly with her own gloved one. “You and Spots are going to give me a heart attack with these greetings, Kelly, I swear! Warn a gal before you go huggin’ her like that!” Jack’s shit eating grin was enough for her to know that he’d done it on purpose, that he had wanted to do something that would surprise her, and she shook her head with a raised a brow. “Are you expectin’ a flower too? Considerin’ how your boys are acting, I’d think Manhattan’s didn’t care much for them.”

“It’s routine, ain’t it? You’se givin’ out flowers? Pick one ta gimme every day, and I’se’ll take it. I’se ain’t above it. I’se don’t think Davey is neither, if you’se wantin’ to try him too. And I’se pretty sure Racer would take one, since ya give ‘im one every mornin’ already.” She hadn’t realized she hadn’t been smiling until a bright one rose onto her face, outshining the sun on any good day. She began to rummage through her basket, a concentrated look on her face before she beamed again and pulled one out. It was a poppy as bright red as her lips, and she looked quite proud of herself as she tucked it carefully behind Jack’s ear. “There! It should stay if you don’t jostle it too much, so be careful! Oh, I have to go find David before that bell goes off! And Racer! I’ll see you later, Cowboy, stay safe!” And like a bullet she was off, damned and determined to find the tallest of the boys. She found Racetrack along the way, passed out a lavender before she pushed her tiny body through the crowd of boys once more. “David! Mistah Jacobs, hold right there!”

Apparently, the order was enough for the giant to stop and look around in confusion before he spotted the pinkish-red mass of fabric swimming through the crowd and had the decency to look amused. And a bit guilty, when he saw the light panting she was doing. “Those legs of yours are long, aren’t they?” She laughed, light and breathy, and gave him a bright grin. “Cowboy over there said you might like a flower. I was… hoping he was right?” She craned her head back to look up at him, a bit shy and uncertain now that she was standing right in front of him. It wasn’t that she liked David, but it had everything to do with the fact that she felt like a child next to him. She was probably older, sure, but the fact that he was a giant of a boy made some difference. Before David could even answer, however, she felt two taps on her shoulder and spun around to face whoever it was, bronze ringlets flying over her shoulder as she did. In front of her stood a boy, maybe 2 years younger than her, grinning at her like she hung the stars in the sky. She could hear David murmur something to someone else, heard them laugh a little, but she put her attention on the boy in front of her. “Yes? Did you need something, mistah… ?”

“Romeo, an’ I’se was hopin’ ta get a flower from a pretty girl, if she’s got one for me!” Mary blinked once, twice, and then a flustered giggle left her lips and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of rosy pink. The color complimented her, made her green eyes stand out even more. “Well, _Romeo_ , let’s see,” she said and ruffled through her basket, mumbling different things about the different flowers before she smiled, satisfied, and pulled one out. It was a daffodil, pretty and bright and yellow. She tucked it behind the boy’s ears, watched as he turned a bright red, and adjusted Edward in her arms when he began to fuss. “There you go. It’s a daffodil to match that nice smile of yours.”

Romeo opened his mouth to say something in response, but the bell went off and Mary was distracted cooing at a fussy baby boy. By the time she looked back up, the charmer was gone and Mary was once more left with the company of one Davey Jacobs and his little brother. With her cheeks still burning she gave the giant a buttercup and grinned up at him. “There you go, David,” she said after she’d made him lean down so she could tuck it behind his ear securely. She hesitated, looking down at the little boy with a shyer smile and fluttering lashes. “Are you sure you won’t take a flower, Les?” She was baiting him, as the older brother would realize as he watched with vast amusement as Les stumbled over his words and accepted a flower being tucked behind his ear. With a beam, the woman was on her way, occasionally able to pass off a flower to one of the boys on her way. She would make a home of Manhattan yet, just you wait.

**\---SKIP---**

The afternoon came with the sun high in the sky, and a very tired Mary dozing off with Edward tucked against her chest, her legs drawn up to rest on the bench with her while her little white heels sat on the cobblestone below. Even with her legs stretched out, she took only half the bench, and so whenever someone sat down they did their best not to bother her. This did not last forever, as most things did not, and she soon found herself startling awake when the figure that’d sat down next to her draped their hand over her ankles. Her eyes fluttered open, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the day, and it took her all of two seconds to recognize the boy who was next to her.

She let out an upset huff and used her little foot to kick at his wrist, barely able to raise it without a strike of pain going through her joints. That was why she’d sat down in the first place. “Aw, c’mon, Mary-girl, don’t be like that. I’se just wakin’ ya fah lunch!” The whining voice of one Racetrack Higgins rang out through the air along with the laughter that came from his friends. Mary pursed her lips at him, her cheeks burning a bit brighter in fluster now that she’d awoken fully. “And giving my heart one hell of an attack, Racer! Lord have mercy!” She fanned herself with her free hand, attempted to continue to look angry, but her expression melted into something more teasing, more friendly. “Just for that, you have to carry me to wherever we’re going.” “Aw, but, Mary-” “Then I suppose I’ll just settle back into this nice bench and go right on with my napping then.” She continued on with this argument for a good and solid three minutes before she began to give him the silent treatment.

Figuring she’d won after she heard Race stand from the bench and walk back over to his friends, she actually did start to settle in to her place on the bench. She felt exhausted, more so than she usually did from her morning routine, and she supposed that that was just something she’d have to get used to. She found that she quite liked the boys of Manhattan, that they were nice enough and just as prickly as her Brooklyn boys if only at a slightly lesser scale. Still, the ache in her joints was bothering her bad, and she did her best not to move too much lest that make it any worse. Victor began to fuss a little, and Mary cooed at him gentle that it wasn’t time to eat just yet. But his cries grew louder and she smiled gently, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and went to reach for the bag that held his formula only to find a pair of legs there instead. She blinked, but before she could even look up she was scooped up and into the arms of someone who was undoubtedly taller than her.

A small scream of surprise left her as she came face to face with a boy wearing a patch over his eye, and a cocky grin on his face. She cradled Victor closer to her, too scared of dropping him to make sure that she herself wouldn’t be dropped, and gave the boy a firm, albeit curious, look. “Kid? What are you-” “Racer said you’se was bein’ stubborn, but Davey and Jack says ya legs was probably hurtin’, so Romeo an’ I’se decided we’se gonna help.” A glance over her shoulder showed her that the boy from earlier, the one who’d interrupted her giving a flower to David, had grabbed Edward’s baby bag and it took everything in her not to scream at the sweet look on his face. Instead, she sighed and gave the two of them a gentle smile as she raised a hand and waved at Romeo. “You boys are going to be the death of me, you know that?” “I’se hopin’ not, considerin’ you’se already an angel.”

And, well, if she had a smile on her face for the rest of the day, who were they to go about bothering her about it?


End file.
